


Tell me tomorrow (I'll wait by the window for you)

by frenchkiss



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gavin and Stacey AU, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:32:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3290453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frenchkiss/pseuds/frenchkiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re, like, beautiful,” Liam says, and it’s said so earnestly and with such conviction that Zayn can hardly believe that they don’t know each other in real life. “God, I’m cacking it now.”</p><p>“Don’t,” Zayn says shyly. “We’re both people, it… it will be what it will.”</p><p>“Can’t wait,” Liam says softly. “I’m nervous, yeah, but I really can’t fucking wait.”</p><p>“Me neither,” Zayn grins. “Less than seventeen hours to go now, babe.”</p><p> </p><p>Or a Gavin and Stacey AU where Zayn pines, Liam's nervous, Louis's loud, Harry's a little odd and Niall just loves an omelette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell me tomorrow (I'll wait by the window for you)

“Stop it, everyone’s looking at me!”

Zayn has to use the sleeve of his shirt to muffle his laughter because his office isn’t very big at all and he knows he’s being loud, but it’s worth it to hear Liam giggle in that adorable way that Zayn’s become so fond of.

“Zayn,” he hears him hiss again playfully, no doubt flushing red as he’s told to keep it down. “You seriously need to stop making me laugh like this. I’m going to get fired at this rate.”

“I could live with it,” Zayn grins, shrugging even though Liam can’t see him. “More time for you to come and visit me.”

“Time, yes, money, no,” Liam says matter-of-factly. He sighs and Zayn feels giddy because in less than a day he’s going to hear Liam sigh in real life. “But hey, it’s only, like a day until I get to meet you and you might not be saying that after this weekend.”

“Pretty sure I won’t,” Zayn says defensively. “Remind me; your train gets in at ten to noon, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Liam says. “Harry’s really looking forward to it, you know.”

Zayn snorts, moving his phone from one ear to another so he can quickly scribble something down on a post-it for a loitering colleague. “And what about you?”

“I…” Liam hesitates and Zayn furrows his brows, taking his phone in his right hand again and dropping his elbows onto the table. “I am, don’t get me wrong, but I’m really worried that you’re going to think I’m boring.”

“Liam, no,” Zayn says, stunned. “I wouldn’t have actively called you nearly every day for the past seven months if I thought you were boring.”

“That’s literally just your job, Zayn,” Liam says.

“Hey!”

“Okay, not your whole job,” Liam amends. “But I am nervous though.”

“Me too,” Zayn admits. He sighs and then decides to come clean. “I know we said, like, no checking to see what the other looked like but I, um, found you on Facebook and, like, you’re bloody hot, babe.” He hears Liam gasp and he pulls a face. “Sorry, was that… was that too forward?”

“You cheated!” Liam says, outraged. “I can’t believe you cheated!”

“It’s not cheating,” Zayn says defensively. “It was, like, after we’d been doing this a couple of months. I was just curious!”

“I’m finding you now,” Liam says, affronted. “I cannot believe…”

Zayn feels heat prick at the back of his neck. “Not while I’m on the phone to you,” he pleads. “Wait at least until…”

“Fuck,” Liam interrupts with a whisper. He pauses for a few terrifying seconds. “Zayn Malik with a Y from Bradford, West Yorkshire?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Fucking hell,” Liam whispers again. “Are you sure? You’re not trolling me?”

“No,” Zayn says slowly, still confused. “What, why…?”

“You’re so fit,” Liam breathes, then makes a choking sound. “Shit, I mean…”

“You think I’m fit?” Zayn splutters, his face now positively burning. “You really think I’m fit?”

“You’re, like, beautiful,” Liam says, and it’s said so earnestly and with such conviction that Zayn can hardly believe that they don’t know each other in real life. “God, I’m cacking it now.”

“Don’t,” Zayn says shyly. “We’re both people, it… it will be what it will.”

“Can’t wait,” Liam says softly. “I’m nervous, yeah, but I really can’t fucking wait.”

“Me neither,” Zayn grins. “Less than seventeen hours to go now, babe.”

 

“You can know someone without knowing them, you know.”

“Can you really?” Louis asks, eyes narrowing as he pops another chip in his mouth.

“Yes,” Zayn says loudly over the squirt of his bottle of ketchup. “I’ve been talking to him every single day for, like, seven months. We text a lot too and he’s, like, been pretty open with me and stuff. What’s the big deal anyway? He’s bringing his mate, you’re driving me; if anything goes wrong then at least we aren’t alone. And it’s only to Manchester, innit?”

“Still unsure about this mate business,” Louis huffs. Zayn rolls his eyes.

“I am not texting Liam to say ‘can you text me a picture of your mate Harry so Louis can see if he’s a minger?’”

“Why?” Louis whines. “It’ll be so awkward if he is.”

“Well, then, if he is you can get the train home and then come and pick me up in the morning and I’ll give you the extra fare money,” Zayn sighs. “Honestly.”

“Ooh, are we gossiping about Liaaaaam?” Trisha says, coming into the kitchen and opening the fridge. “Can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“Mum,” Zayn whines, but Louis shushes him and grins, offering one of his mountain of chips to Trisha.

“We are,” he says happily. “Can you believe little Zaynie here, all grown up and ready to meet the love of his life tomorrow?”

Zayn chokes on his burger. “The love of my life? Can we calm down please?”

“Oh please,” Trisha and Louis both say at the same time and then smirk at each other proudly.

“I’m serious!” Zayn protests, wiping his fingers on his burger wrapper. “I haven’t even met him yet.”

“Yes, but,” Louis says through a mouthful of battered fish, “you’re practically in love with him already. You can know someone you’ve met on the internet and all that. I can’t bloody wait.”

“You were complaining about it two seconds ago,” Zayn snaps. “Shut up and pass the salt.”

 

In Wolverhampton, the scene is much the same.

“Now you promise me you won’t go anywhere without Harry,” Karen says for the sixteenth time as she puts a plate of omelette and chips in front of Liam. “If he’s anything like his sister when it comes to fights then you’ll be fine.”

Liam fights the urge to roll his eyes as he thanks her for the food. “I’m going to be fine, Mum, stop fussing.”

“You don’t know anything about this Zayn,” Karen tuts. “For all you know, he could be a paedophile.”

“Well, he wouldn’t be interested in me then,” Liam argues, shoving a mouthful of egg into his mouth so he doesn’t say something ruder. “Honestly, Mum, I am twenty-three and it’s only Manchester. I’ve been to Manchester loads.”

“You never know these days, he might be grooming you,” Karen shoots back. “Anyway, I sent Niall into town for a rape alarm for you, he’ll be coming round in a bit.”

Liam’s fork clangs harshly against his plate. “Mum, what the hell? I’m a grown man!”

“He said he knew a guy who could do you pepper spray but he couldn’t get it in time – did you know that’s illegal? – so you’ll have to make do with the alarm,” Karen says firmly.

Liam sighs. “Right.”

As if on cue, the back door opens and feet can be heard scraping themselves across the doormat. “Only me!” Niall’s cheerful voice chirps, followed by Harry’s drawl of “hiiiiii.” They both plonk themselves down at Liam’s little dining table, Niall immediately reaching for a piece of bread and butter from the plate in the middle.

“Hi, boys,” Karen says happily, offering the plate to Harry who shakes his head. He sets his tiny little man bag down, clearly more decorative than practical, down on the floor and Liam furrows his brows.

“Is that all you’re bringing?”

Harry nods. “Got a spare pair of boxers, a travel deodorant, a couple of condoms and my phone charger, what else do I need?” Karen groans and gestures her head towards Liam’s weekend suitcase. “Oh, Liam, we’re going for one night!”

“Yes, but we don’t know where!” Liam says in protest. “I need a few outfits just in case.”

Niall and Harry just shake their heads.

“Stop making fun of me,” Liam whines. “This is a big deal for me, alright? Zayn’s important to me.”

“I got you a rape alarm,” Niall says through another mouthful of bread and butter. “Is this the kind of thing you wanted, Kazza?”

Karen nods. “What do I owe you for it?”

Niall shakes his head. “Don’t worry, it’s on me.”

“No, honestly,” Karen says, standing up and searching for her handbag. “I can’t ask you to go into town and then pay for it yourself.”

Niall shakes his head more fervently. “Absolutely no worries, I promise you. The least I can do for you feeding me all these years, innit?”

Liam smiles at him gratefully, squeezing his wrist gently. Niall’s not had the easiest of lives – his parents moved him to England when he was just fifteen and since them both have then have sadly died. But Niall, ever the optimist, took it in his stride and continues to live in the house opposite them with his brother and his wife and he’s become something like the dysfunctional cousin that Liam’s never had. He wouldn’t trade Niall for anything.

He would really appreciate it, however, if Niall would learn to shut up sometimes.

“That’s very good of you, love,” Karen says, going over and giving him a tight hug.  Niall shakes his head over at Liam as he hugs her back.

“Now then,” he says after Karen’s sat back down and he’s swallowed the hunk of bread he’s chewing on. “The bloke in the shop says I should give you a little demonstration.”

“What?” Liam says blankly. “I don’t need a demonstration. I appreciate it, Ni, really, but I’m sure I can work out a rape alarm.”

“Excuse me,” Niall scoffs, “tomorrow, you are travelling to Manchester to meet a boy you’ve never met before. That’s in a different county and everything.”

“And?”

“And I offered to come with you, you said no,” Niall says with a pout. “You’re taking this pathetic specimen instead.” He gestures to Harry, whose been typing away on his phone for the whole conversation. “And so it’s only fair you agree to meet me halfway and take the rape alarm.”

“I turned down your offer of coming with me because I actually want Zayn to like me,” Liam hisses. “You’d just go on and on and on about all the embarrassing things I did during high school. At least if his mate is a knob then Harry can still have fun in his virtual world.”

“What?” Harry says, looking up and scrunching up his face. “Did you say my name?”

“No,” Liam sighs. “Go back to texting.” Harry nods and does just that.

“Anyway,” Niall says as he butters his third piece of bread. “I want you to try and attack me.”

“Excuse me?” Liam asks incredulously. “Attack you why?”

“So I can make sure it works,” Niall says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on, attack me.”

“I am not attacking you,” Liam says flatly. “Mum, tell him.”

“Well, it might be wise to try it out, you don’t know what this Zayn is going to be like,” Karen says.

“Oh my god, I’m going for a shower,” Liam says, tossing his knife and fork onto his plate and standing up. “You are all too much!”

“Liam, darling!” Karen calls after him. “We just care about you!”

Liam thunders upstairs, sighing as he gets into his room and closes the door. He kicks the spare duvet and pillow his mum has put in there for Harry out the way and flops face down on his bed, groaning into his pillow.

His family are too much sometimes.

 

As they share a spliff a little later that night, Louis can’t seem to drop it.

“Not too late to back out, you know.”

“What?” Zayn asks on his exhale. “I’ve got to meet him. I want to meet him. It’s exciting.”

“Maybe it’s exciting now,” Louis says with some kind of weed-laced authority. “But you know what they say about excitement.”

“What do they say about excitement and who is they?”

“That’s by the by,” Louis says, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. “The point is, I was talking to Danny and Stan about you last night and we’re worried. You’re putting all your eggs in one bag, mate.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Zayn asks exasperatedly.

“He’s from the Midlands,” Louis stresses, as if that’s a totally logical and fairly made point. “And he might not even turn up tomorrow for all you know. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

Zayn glares at him. “When the fuck did you become an expert on relationships? You’ve only ever had one girlfriend and you had to break up with her because it turned out she was only seventeen. So forgive me if I don’t hang on to your every word about love lives, mate.”

“She was seventeen and three quarters, actually, and we broke up because my schedule clashed too much with revising for her A-levels,” Louis snaps, snatching the joint back off him.

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to come with me tomorrow, I’ll just go by myself,” Zayn says, leaning back in his chair and sighing.

“Oh, don’t be fucking stupid,” Louis scoffs. “I am not letting you go to Manchester on your own to meet up with two freaks.”

“Liam is not a freak,” Zayn retorts defensively.

“Liam might not be but this mate of his might,” Louis says knowingly. “Could be a complete nutter for all we know.”

“Course he won’t be,” Zayn replies, taking the joint back. “Liam’s a fairly sensible guy, how odd can his friend be?”

 

“Liam?” Harry asks later as they lie pressed together in his queen-sized bed. “Liam, about tomorrow.”

“What do you want?” Liam asks, not opening his eyes from where he’s got them scrunched together tight. He feels like a child on Christmas Eve.

“It’s pretty, like, cool that you’re meeting this guy,” Harry says in a voice that Liam knows well. It’s the voice he gets when he’s drunk or horny or feeling particularly philosophical. “Maybe you’re soulmates.”

“Go to sleep, Hazza,” Liam pleads, cracking one eye open.

“No, wait, just hear me out,” Harry drawls. “It’s, like, the universe wanted you to meet, don’t you think? Like, if you think about it, which I imagine you have a lot, you are already practically in a relationship, aren’t you?”

“No,” Liam says, voice flat.

“You are,” Harry insists. “Proper soulmate shit, you two. Destiny and in the stars and all that. I wonder if I’ll ever meet  a person like that.”

“Course you will,” Liam says, wanting this conversation over. He pats at Harry’s hair. “Don’t think too hard about it.”

“But,” Harry carries on and Liam fights down the urge to sigh, “this isn’t something for everyone, I feel it. You and this Zayn, you’re going to go far.”

“It’s too late for this, Harry,” Liam says gently. “We need to be up at the arsecrack of dawn for the coach.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles. “It’s just nice to think about, isn’t it? Like, you’re going to fall in love tomorrow and it’s going to be amazing.”

Liam smiles softly and presses a kiss into Harry’s hair. “I hope so, Haz, I really hope so.”

He can feel Harry’s smile radiating towards him even with his eyes closed. “Night, Li.”

“Night, Haz.”

 

The coach does actually pull up at the arsecrack of dawn, driven by local heartthrob and Harry’s kind of-ex Nick. Liam doesn’t mind the guy – he’d prefer it if he wasn’t such a knob to his best friend sometimes, but he guesses that to them it’s flirting – but he’s offered to drive them on his coach that he drives taking local kids up to Manchester for nights out for free and he couldn’t really turn the offer down.

“Where’s your case, Styles?” he shouts as Liam wheels his down the road behind him, Harry with his little bag slung over his shoulder.

“Don’t be a twat, Nick,” Harry huffs, stalking straight past him and up onto the bus. Liam ignores the way Nick blatantly ogles Harry’s arse and goes to stand next to him, pushing down the handle on his case.

“I had the best sex of my life with that bloke,” Nick says morosely, dropping his fag butt to the ground and toeing it out. “Absolute heaven. His fucking mouth…”

“Nick,” Liam groans. “Please.”

“Sorry,” Nick says, not sounding sorry at all. He lights up another fag and offers one to Liam, who shakes his head.

“Just had one,” he says. “We can still smoke on the bus though, yeah?”

Nick nods. “Absolutely. My motto is fags and weed, glue and speed, but I draw the line at crack. That way, everyone knows where they stand, you know?”

Liam snorts. “Wicked. We nearly off then?”

Nick nods, blowing a stream of smoke into Liam’s face. “Just after I’ve had this, if that’s alright with you, Leemo?”

Liam nods. “Sure. Can I put my case in the underneathy bit?”

Nick nods, tucking the fag to one side of his mouth so he can fish for his keys. “You excited then?”

Liam nods shyly. “I mean, yeah. Nervous more than anything.”

“I see you’ve dressed up for the occasion and everything,” Nick notes, surveying Liam up and down. “You look absolutely fuckable. If I saw you down the pubs, I’d get you what you want.”

“Oi, can we go?” Harry calls out the bus door before Liam can think of a suitable response. “It’s bloody freezing on this coach.”

Liam snorts and hops on after him, pressing a quick kiss onto his cheek. “Sorry. You okay?”

“I fucking hate Nick, I hate him,” Harry mumbles. Liam knows he absolutely doesn’t (he’s been staring at his bum the entire time he’s been pottering around the coach getting them ready to go) but he humours him.

“What happened then?”

“With Nick? He said I lasted too long,” Harry groans. “Says I took too long to make him come, which is, like, rude. And then he came without warning and got spunk in my eye and laughed.”

Liam tries very hard not to laugh. “How rude of him.”

“Have you ever got sperm in your eye?” Harry asks, outraged. “It went all red and puffy.”

“Oh, Styles, again with the spunk story?” Nick yells from the front. “You have all these techniques but they don’t go together. It’s either too long or it comes too soon.”

“Nick!”

 

Meanwhile, on the train from Bradford to Manchester Piccadilly, Louis is pouting so dramatically that Zayn isn’t sure how his lip is still attached.

“Zayner,” he’s whining. “Zaynie. Zayn.”

“What?”

“Thoughts on the beer?” Louis says, sounding distressed as he waves his beer bottle in Zayn’s face.

“It’s fine,” Zayn mumbles, going back to staring out the window. “It’s beer, it’s whatever.”

Louis slams his hand down onto the train table. “Zayn!”

“What do you want from me?”

Louis barks a laugh. “What do I want from you?” He pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. “You said to me, let’s try every beer in the world in the next twelve months. I said it can’t be done. You said please, I said no. You said pretty please, Louis, I said fine. I made a chart for this endeavour. The world doubted us, Zayn - Danny and Stan dropped out after Belgium - but you, you, the idea-master. I didn’t think you would drop out.” He puts the beer bottle back on the table and glares. “Ever since things have heated up a bit with this Liam, you’ve gone missing. The lights are on but nobody is home and frankly, I am sick of it. I wash my hands of you, Zayn Malik.”

“Are you quite finished?” Zayn asks, eyebrows raised.

“No, actually,” Louis says, glaring. “If this mate of Liam’s turns out to be a munter and I can’t at least have sex while you’re making heart eyes and drawing I heart Liam 4ever on each other’s arms then this might just be it for me and you.”

“Louis…”

“Are you even going to drink this fine specimen of German beer?” Louis yelps, pointing to the beer bottle. “Are you?”

“No, I’m too nervous,” Zayn mumbles.

“Fucking hell,” Louis snaps, snatching it off him and downing it. “Putting good beer to waste. Who even are you anymore? You’re drunk on love and not on the beer that your best mate in the whole world so graciously provides.”

Zayn kicks him under the table and then goes back to staring out the window.

 

Nick’s Coaches pulls up outside Manchester Piccadilly at half past eleven. Liam climbs down off the coach on shaky legs, Harry traipsing behind him before climbing back on to argue with Nick some more. Liam shakes his head after them and then goes and stands by the big plastic sign they agreed as their meeting point. He bounces nervously on his heels and fights the urge to check his phone for the twelfth time. It’s only about ten minutes later when he hears someone shout “where the fuck is his mate?” before he turns and finally, finally sees Zayn, who’s shooting him a beam and looks more beautiful in real life than Liam ever could have imagined.

“Hi,” he says as he approaches, hand going out to reach for Liam’s and then snatching it back.

“Hi,” Liam says, smiling awkwardly at him and then at his mate, who looks bored already. There’s a pause and then he blurts “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

Zayn’s eyes go wide. “Of course I was going to come.” Another awkward pause. “I, er, I like your t-shirt.”

Liam hears his friend snort and he looks down. It’s just a plain white t-shirt. “Er, thank you?”

Zayn shakes his head, clearly a little embarrassed. “This is Louis, by the way,” he says, gesturing to the shorter bloke beside him. Louis beams and holds out his hand for Liam to shake. “Louis, Liam.”

“Hiya, Liam, mate, heard a lot about you,” Louis says with a wink.

“Heard a lot about you too,” Liam stammers, a little taken aback. He hears Zayn groan and he bites back a grin.

Louis drops his hand and shoves his own in the pockets of his hoodie. “So, did you, like, come on your own in the end or something?”

“What?” Liam says dumbly, because he’d completely forgotten about Harry. “Oh, no, no, I came with, um…” He looks over to the coach and gestures at it vaguely. “Harry’s on the coach. He’ll be here in a minute.”

Zayn nods and then there’s another awkward silence until a few seconds later, when Harry stumbles down the steps, clearly still mid-argument with Nick. He’s pouting dramatically as he hurries over, pushing his long hair from his eyes and looking like a sleepy child as he does so.

“Nick takes the piss,” he hisses, ignoring Zayn and Louis and reaching for Liam’s arm. “He wanted me to fucking blow him on the coach, I mean, the fucking nerve…”

“Haz,” Liam hisses, gently spinning him around to face the other two boys. “This is Zayn and his mate, Louis.”

“Shit,” Harry says blankly. “Um, hi, sorry about that. You’re Zayn? Hi, I’m Harry, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise,” Zayn says as he shakes his hand. “This is Louis, my best mate.”

Harry turns to look at Louis and Liam almost laughs as Harry’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull. Louis also looks a little stunned as he looks Harry up and down, taking in his unbuttoned shirt and skin-tight jeans not very subtly.

“Hello,” Harry rasps and Liam can’t help but shoot Zayn a look, who smirks back at him. “’m Harry.”

“I’m Louis,” Louis says, not so subtly licking his lips. “But you can call me any time.”

Zayn and Liam both groan. “Really?” Zayn asks. “Really, Lou?”

“Shall we get a drink?” Liam says loudly. “It’s a bit nippy just standing around outside.”

“Sure,” Zayn says, reaching out for his hand and slotting their fingers together, which makes Liam’s heart leap. “Know anywhere good?”

“I’m sure we can just find a ‘Spoons or something,” Liam says, squeezing his hand and stepping closer to him. “Come on, yeah?”

They start walking, chatting away about their respective journeys and what they want to do that afternoon. Liam isn’t sure when it’s ever been this natural with someone before – he knows he’s been talking to Zayn regularly for several months but it’s not like him at all to want to touch someone or hold their hand like this. It feels right in a way it never felt with Danielle or Sophia or even when he had that fling with Aiden and it’s weird. Clearly they both want something here but Liam doesn’t want to press it – it’s absolutely far too soon – so he just lets Zayn’s hand sit as a warm and familiar weight in his own as he guides him into a Yates’s just down the road from the station, forcing himself not to blush as Zayn holds the door open for him.

“What do you want to drink?” Zayn murmurs as they sidle up to the bar. “First round on me.”

“I’ll just have a beer if that’s alright,” Liam says. “And Haz’ll have a G and T.”

“Coming right up,” Zayn grins at him. “Wanna go grab that booth over there?”

Liam nods and reluctantly drops his hand, not wanting to come across as upset about it as he actually feels. They’ll hold hands again, he’s sure of it.

 

Harry leads Louis up to the bar with a hand on the small of his back and then winks at him as he strides past to sit with Liam and Louis glares after him as he edges towards Zayn at the bar, outrage plain as day on his face.

“Louis?”

“This is a nightmare of epic proportions,” Louis whines loudly. “I cannot believe Liam brought this guy.”

Zayn stares. “What’s wrong with him?”

“A, I asked him to call me any time; B, look how fucking fit he is and three, look how fucking fit he is!” Louis cries dramatically. “He’s massive!”

Zayn cranes his neck back over to them. “What the hell are you on about? He’s proper lanky.”

“I mean tall, look how tall!” Louis wails, waving his hand in Zayn’s face. “Fingers so long I bet they’d do wonders to my arse. I want him to fuck me against a wall.”

“Louis,” Zayn hisses, embarrassed. “We are in public.”

“And?” Louis moans. “That doesn’t help my plight one iota. I did not sign up to this.”

“What are you even complaining about?

“He’s clearly taken,” Louis grumbles. “He was going to blow that guy on a coach, remember?”

Zayn looks back over to them, smiling awkwardly and fondly as Liam catches his eye before turning back to Louis. “That doesn’t mean he’s taken. I think Liam mentioned something about his best mate having a weird sort of fuck buddy kind of situation going on anyway.” The barman appears so he turns from Louis to place their order. “Yeah, hi, mate, can I get three beers and a gin and tonic please?”

“Is that G and T for Harry?” Louis balks. “Is he a real human being?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says as he pulls his wallet out. “What’s wrong with gin and tonic?”

“My mum drinks gin and tonics,” Louis whinges. “She is in her forties and is a mum of seven. Harry is twenty-two.”

“I’m still struggling to see the issue,” Zayn says as he hands over his debit card. “You think he’s fit, he’s flirting back with you, you’ll probably end up shagging. I don’t…”

“Well, you wouldn’t,” Louis snaps, snatching up his beer and downing half of it in one rather unattractive slurp. “You’re too busy heart-eyesing to notice my struggle.”

“You don’t have a fucking struggle,” Zayn says, picking up his and Liam’s pints. “And also shut up and let me. Liam’s… Liam’s…”

Louis groans and picks up Harry’s gin and tonic, muttering something about selfish cunts behind him. Zayn ignores him though, setting both pints down on the table and tucking himself into the booth next to Liam. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Liam says with a shy little smile. “Thank you for this.”

“No problem,” Zayn says. He hesitates a second, hand lying on the ugly red velvet upholstery next to Liam’s limply and their fingertips touch briefly as they both decide to make the move at the same time, which makes them both flinch back and huff two awkward laughs. Zayn shakes his head and just presses a little closer to Liam, close enough so he can drape his arm across the back of the bench around Liam’s head. “I’m, er, I’m so glad we decided to do this.”

“Me too,” Liam replies quietly. “It’s nice to put a voice to a face. Even if you did that months ago.”

“Hey,” Zayn protests, “I had to make sure, didn’t I?”

“And?” Liam says. “Better in real life?”

“Absolutely,” Zayn says. He finally dares to take his hand. “Can I just…?”

“What?” Liam asks, squeezing his hand gently.

“We are… on the same page here,” Zayn asks lowly. “Like, I didn’t just meet up with you for a drink and that’s the end of it, yeah?” Liam’s brows furrow. “I mean, like, I…” He huffs. “God, I sound like a bloody fool, but, like, we… we’re here because we…” He pauses, waving his free hand around a bit. “You’re not straight, are you?”

Liam lets out a burst of surprised laughter. “If you’re trying to say that we’re here because we both want something more than a flirty phone relationship then absolutely. God, I mean, how could I not fancy you, Zayn?”

Zayn fights the urge to gape. Liam just keeps going.

“Like, you’re funny and smart and absolutely gorgeous in real life,” he says, taking a sip of his pint before he continues. “And, like, I don’t know about you but I feel, like, connected to you? We’ve been together for, what, half an hour? And I already feel so, like, comfortable with you. I’d never have held my ex’s hand like this in public.”

“Same,” Zayn says, squeezing it again for emphasis. “I just…” He cuts himself off, shaking his head and letting out a breathy laugh. “I want to make small talk but I already know so much about you, it’s like…”

“Oh my god, I know,” Liam chuckles. “I want to be like so Zayn tell me about your sisters but I already know a lot about them.”

“They’re stoked I’m here,” Zayn admits. “Think we’ve got some real destiny shit going on here.”

Liam groans. “Harry thinks the same. He kept me up half the night jabbering on about it.”

Zayn snorts, turning to look at where Harry and Louis are sat together, heads bowed in towards each other as Louis shows off his beer chart.

“They’re a right pair already,” he notes, reaching for his beer. “Look at Lou. Fucking smitten.”

“Wouldn’t it be really cool if my best mate got with your best mate?” Liam says brightly. “So, like, the universe got two couples together in the end?”

“Is Harry single?” Zayn asks curiously. “Who wanted him to blow them on the bus?”

“Oh, fuck, I forgot about Nick,” Liam huffs. “They’re sort of, like, an unexclusive pair thing. Who knows? Harry’s a bit of a sap though, would love a soulmate sort of thing if it came round.”

“Bless,” Zayn says fondly. “Louis’s a bit of an arse, to be honest, I hope he doesn’t fuck him over.”

“Harry’ll be fine. He’s also a big fan of sex, so,” Liam shrugs. “Whatever will be will be.” He downs the last of his pint. “Can I get you another?”

The rest of the afternoon passes lazily, with Zayn and Liam making easy conversation while Harry and Louis gradually shift closer, pressing more of themselves together the drunker they slowly get. Zayn finds himself hanging off Liam’s every word, unbearably fond as Liam chats away about Niall and his dog and life in Wolverhampton. Zayn, in turn, talks about Louis and his college course in art that he does on the side and how his mum and dad were almost more excited for him to meet Liam than he was.

“I think it’s because I was so nervous, you know,” Zayn tacks on the end of his story. “I was so worried you wouldn’t like me once you’d met me in person.”

Liam opens his mouth to say something but then a balled up napkin hits Zayn in the face and he splutters, turning to glare at Louis, who cackles and accepts Harry’s high five with a stupid blush.

“Oi, we’re absolutely starving,” he says. “And I ain’t eating here, not after Ant got food poisoning off that Hunter’s chicken, so we were gonna find a Nando’s, you down?”

“Yeah, sure,” Zayn nods. He downs the rest of his pint and stands up, the alcohol making him sway a little but Liam’s strong hand on his hip steadies him. “Thanks,” he smiles.

“You’re welcome,” Liam says, eyes crinkling happily. “Can’t have you falling over now, can we?”

“Disgusting,” Louis sneers. “Hideous. Revolting. Obscene.”

Zayn bites back a comment about how he currently has a boy he’s known less time than he’s been speaking to Liam draped across his back and shrugs on his jacket, taking Liam’s hand again straight after because he’s loathed not to be touching him right now. They exit the pub pressed close and take a wander further into Manchester City Centre, talking loudly over the roar of passing traffic and the tinny music playing from the restaurant speakers. It’s dumb and it’s wonderful, the way Zayn feels eighteen again, holding someone’s hand and not caring who sees, the way he feels so small in such a big city the way he likes it, the way that Liam’s laugh still rings louder than any noise that could ever drown it out.

He thinks this might be what falling in love feels like.

It doesn’t take them long to find a Nando’s and it’s still early enough for them to be seated on a large booth near the back, taking the same seating arrangements as they had in the pub. The waiter brings them menus and they scan them briefly before Liam and Harry go up to order for them.

“You are so fucking gone, mate,” Louis notes once they’re out of earshot. “You’re absolutely disgusting.”

“Says the one,” Zayn scoffs. “You look about three seconds from sticking your hand down his pants.”

“Alas, if only it would fit,” Louis cries dramatically. “But they’re too tight.”

“You’ve already tried, haven’t you?” Zayn groans.

“No,” Louis says, outraged. Zayn gives him a look. “Okay, maybe a little. Look, alright, he has these hands and if his cock is as big as his hands…”

“Are you talking about my cock?” Harry asks as he traipses back, dropping his wallet and the receipt on the table. Louis goes bright red and yelps in surprise.

“Um, I mean, it’s, like…”

“I’m flattered, babe,” Harry drawls, sitting down back and draping an arm around Louis’s shoulders, before leaning in to murmur something in his ear that Zayn can’t make out. It makes Louis – Louis who was once nearly arrested for jerking someone off in a club without a hint of shame – flush redder than Zayn has ever seen before. He thinks Harry might be good for him.

“Everything okay?” Liam asks, coming back with two pitchers of sangria, which he sets on the table. “Harry, I thought you were getting the cutlery and sauces.”

“Something came up,” Harry says in a low voice before he goes back to murmuring in Louis’s ear. Liam sighs and shakes his head, disappearing again before coming back precariously balancing four glasses, four sets of cutlery and two bottles of sauce. Zayn jumps up to help him and then they sit back down together, pressing closer than before without even realising.

It’s warm and content, being this close to Liam. Zayn’s head is still a little fuzzy from their earlier pints but the sangria feels like it makes him looser, more inclined to be a little more open. He murmurs something in Liam’s ear about how Harry and Louis are probably going to elope by the end of the night and Liam cackles, shoulders pushing against Zayn’s as he does so. His arms are strong and his t-shirt strains against them marvellously and Zayn notes he wouldn’t mind seeing what’s underneath them.

The food comes quickly, which forces them to all break apart reluctantly. Liam steals one of Zayn’s pieces of garlic bread and Zayn takes one of his chicken wings in retaliation, which makes Liam pout in the most adorable way that Zayn’s ever seen a grown man pout. Slowly, he puts the chicken wing back and Liam giggle-shrugs at him happily, pressing a greasy kiss into his hair as a thank you. Zayn isn’t sure why that makes his heart flutter the way it does but he’s grateful, grinning back around mouthfuls of his own chicken.

Liam then snatches a bite of Zayn’s extra hot chicken thighs, eyes going wide and tears leaking from his eyes as he forces himself to swallow before he snatches the pitcher of sangria and drinks straight from it, flipping the group off as they howl with laughter. “I didn’t think extra hot meant, like, burn the skin off the roof of your mouth hot!”

“Oh, babe,” Zayn giggles, dabbing at the dribbling liquid down Liam’s chin with a napkin. “I should have warned you, this stuff is, like, killer if you aren’t used to it.”

“How do you even prepare yourself for stuff like this?” Liam asks incredulously. He starts to wipe at his tongue with another napkin and Zayn tuts and shakes his head.

“Years of eating my family’s spicy food, I guess,” he says. “Don’t worry, Louis’s never been able to handle them either.”

“S’true,” Louis says through a mouthful of chips. “Wimpy as fuck, I am. Zayn’s, like, some kind of master.”

“You’ll have to start me somewhere simpler if this is an education I’m going to need with you,” Liam says, dropping the spit-damp napkin onto his empty plate. Zayn ignores the flutter in his heart at that and just snorts fondly, murmuring something about how if he can’t handle a Nando’s then he’s probably already fucked.

Liam laughs again, throwing his head back and squeezing Zayn’s knee as he does so. Zayn realises with a jolt that Liam hasn’t actually stopped touching him since they entered the restaurant. He turns to look at Liam again, his skin slightly flushed and his eyes scrunched up in laughter as he stares back at him, beautiful and unbearably fond. Zayn presses closer to him, his hand reaching for Liam’s wrist to tug him gently so they’re facing each other properly and before he can second guess himself, he leans forward and kisses him.

Zayn’s never really been one for PDA – he spent a lot of his teenage years watching Louis get snogged up against the walls of dingy pubs and clubs all around Yorkshire and he’s never really fancied trying it himself – but this, this, he wants to do for the rest of his life and then maybe a little longer after that. Liam kisses back eagerly, mouth warm and soft against Zayn’s, hands going around his middle and pulling him close. Zayn cups Liam’s cheek and presses closer, gently slipping his tongue between Liam’s lips and tasting peri-peri sauce and sangria. It’s not how he imagined his first kiss with Liam to go necessarily, in a scrappy little Nando’s in Manchester city centre with his best mate and Liam’s best mate squabble-flirting across the table but it’s perfect, absolutely bloody perfect.

Liam draws away slowly, keeping his arms tightly around Zayn’s middle as he rests their foreheads together. “Wow.”

“Wow indeed,” Zayn murmurs back, pecking him quickly again. “You’re a good little snogger, aren’t you?”

Liam giggles, a blush creeping down to his neck as he shrugs again. “I guess.”

“You are,” Zayn insists, and then grabs him by the front of his shirt and kisses him again. Their tongues slide together and it should be gross, because there's still food in teeth and Liam has sauce on his cheek but Zayn doesn't want to stop, maybe ever. They snog until the waiter comes by to clear their table and coughs loudly, causing both couples to break apart and stare. The waiter just snorts and disappears, shouting behind him for them to please vacate the table if they've finished. A little flustered, the four of them stumble out and down the Manchester streets again, Harry yelling something about Canal Street and bars before he puts his mouth back on Louis's.

They settle in a bar for a while, Zayn practically in Liam's lap as they take shot after shot. Zayn is pleasantly buzzed and definitely on the way to hard, tilting his neck for Liam to kiss and nip at it, no doubt leaving the kind of mark that Zayn would have yelled at any of his exes for leaving on him. The artificial lights glint off Liam's sweaty skin, surrounding him a haze that makes him look almost ethereal. He's absolutely stunning and Zayn never wants to stop staring at him.

From the bar, they move onto a club because Louis wants to dance and although Zayn would usually rather eat his own little finger off than dance, he really fucking wants to. He's open to anything that will allow him to press himself up against Liam's body for a long period of time, really.

They join the queue for a club that Zayn has never heard of but Harry assures him is good for drinks and the music's decent. Zayn nods but he's only really pretending to focus because he can feel Liam's lips in his hair, hands resting lightly on his hips and thumbs rubbing circles tantalisingly into his skin. He turns back to him for another kiss, loose and happy and excited from all of this. He can feel Liam's smile as they kiss and Zayn knows, he knows, that he's not going to let this boy go any time soon.

By the time they get inside the club is dark and packed tight but Zayn wastes no time in getting Liam exactly where he wants him, on the dance floor and with his body pressed up against his. The shots from earlier are seeping through his bloodstream nicely so he’s loose enough to wind his arms around Liam’s waist and attach his lips to his neck, sucking and nipping at the skin until a purple bruise can be seen glinting under the electric lights.

Liam in turn tilts his head to the side to allow Zayn better access, his arms bulging beautifully as they grip onto Zayn’s shoulders and move them sloppily in time with the beat of the music. Zayn presses himself close, hands roaming down to the hem of Liam’s top and finding their way to the skin underneath, which is warm and slightly damp with sweat.

From then on, it's a blur of kisses and thumping bass tracks and hands all over his body. More shots are consumed and more love bites are sucked onto skin and Zayn's not sure what he's more drunk off, the cheap vodka or Liam, his heady smell of sweat, smoke and boy intoxicating and all Zayn can smell. He wants more, wants to fuck Liam against the wall of a toilet stall or get on his knees for him in the alley round the back. But then again, he doesn't want quick and dirty. He wants gentle kisses and soft sheets and murmured words of praise and grunts of pleasure. So he presses himself closer to Liam again, tilting his neck back for Liam so he can suck on his skin and presses his arse back further into his crotch, teasing but patient.

When they stumble into the smoking area a little later for fresh air, Liam keeps an arm around his waist the whole time, lips pressing into his hair and inhaling as Zayn fumbles for his fag. He lights it then exhales the smoke out, turning to press a warm kiss into the corner of Liam's mouth.

"Sweaty," he notes, looking at how see-through Liam's white top has gone. Not that he's complaining. "You're a good little dancer along with being a good little snogger, you know."

"You flatter me," Liam says, swaying a little as he reaches to take the cigarette from between Zayn's fingers. "You're not too bad yourself though. Especially for someone who said they never dance."

"I don't," Zayn shrugs. He takes the cigarette back and inhales it deeply. "You just bring a new side to me, babe."

They kiss again, the still burning cigarette dropping to the floor and going out in a puddle with a hiss as Liam grabs him by the lapels and presses him against a wall, kissing slow and deep until an ugly noise snaps them out of their haze.

“Shit,” Zayn hisses as he yanks his phone out to silence the alarm. “Shit, I didn't realise it was this late. We’ve only got half an hour until the last train. Where’s Lou?”

“Do you have to go?” Liam says, eyes wide and sad, not making any effort to distance himself. His hand dips slightly into the waistband of Zayn’s jeans. “I mean, like, it’s gonna be cold and long and you’re drunk and we’ve got a room.”

Zayn looks at him. “Well, I mean, if it’s, not, like, a problem…”

“Zayn,” Liam says, cupping his jaw and kissing him again. “I’m asking you to come back with me.”

Zayn grins and kisses him again harder, slipping his tongue inside Liam’s hot mouth and pressing their crotches together. “I’d love to,” he murmurs against his lips. “Still need to find Lou though, sadly.”

Liam keeps his arm tight around Zayn’s waist as they head back inside, but it doesn’t take long to find Louis and Harry, who are in fact snogging messily up against the wall outside the loos. Zayn snorts and then clears his throat loudly and repeatedly, until Harry pulls away with a glare. He stays attached to Louis by a string of spit, which he doesn’t even bother to wipe away. “What?”

“The last train goes in twenty-five minutes,” Zayn yells over the music. “Just in case you want to get home.”

“Fuck that,” Louis shouts back. “I’m going back with Hazza here.”

Zayn snorts. “Excellent. Carry on!”

Liam pulls Zayn away and they go back to the dancefloor, body pressed close and hips moving awkwardly in time to the beat as they snog and snog and snog. As soon as it becomes obvious that they’re both hard in their jeans Liam pulls away, eyes blown with lust and sweat dripping down his temples.

“Shall we go?” he croaks and Zayn nods hurriedly.

“Do you…” he starts, swallowing nervously. “Do you have a condom on you?”

Liam’s eyes grow even wider. “Shit,” he hisses. “No, I don’t. Um… loo vending machine?”

Zayn nods hurriedly, tugging Liam towards it and shoving through the throng of people and past their snogging friends. Harry’s hand might be down Louis’s trousers at this point.

They both fumble drunkenly for their wallets, Zayn eventually managing to grab hold of a couple of quid to slot into the vending machine. A packet of three condoms drop down and Zayn awkwardly shoves his wallet into whatever pocket he can before he spins and kisses Liam filthily again, their tongues sliding together as Liam groans audibly.

“Bed,” he pants. “I need… I need to get you where I can fucking…”

“I know,” Zayn groans. “God, I know. Let’s get out of here.”

Sloppily grabbing at each other’s hands, they scurry out of there, dragging Louis and Harry behind them. “Did you buy condoms?” Harry slurs, arm tight around Louis’s waist. “Because I packed a stash. Ribbed.”

Louis squeaks into Harry’s chest as Liam’s eyes go wide. “Taxi!”

As they stumble into Liam and Harry’s hotel room not long after, Zayn flicks the light on and stops dead.

“There’s two single beds,” he says dumbly. “They’re like two feet apart.”

“And?” Louis groans, not so subtly palming at Harry through his trousers. “You take that bed, we’ll take this one.”

“Really?” Zayn asks dumbly. “Li, are you comfortable with that?”

Liam opens his mouth to answer but he’s drowned out by Harry moaning obscenely behind him.

“You know what?” Louis says, unbuttoning his own trousers unashamedly. “As a mate, we’ll go in the ensuite. I don’t have time for this. Hazza?”

“Yep,” Harry says, kicking his shoes off  and pulling his shirt over his head, grinning as Louis stares hungrily. “But only for the first go.”

Louis cackles as he drags his head down for another kiss, pulling the two of them backwards and kicking the door shut. Zayn sighs and flops down on the bed.

Liam sits down next to him, offering a shy smile. Zayn rests his head on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I just… I didn’t think and I wanted it to be perfect…”

“Hey,” Liam says softly, cupping his face. “It will be perfect. Just you and me, yeah?”

“Just you and me,” Zayn echoes. Liam gently presses him back against the mattress and kisses him again, slowly and passionately. His hands move down and slide under Liam’s t-shirt, moving themselves up the soft skin. Zayn feels his breathing get heavier as Liam starts to fumble with the buttons on his own black and grey shirt, revealing more and more skin by the second.

“You’re beautiful,” Liam whispers like it’s a secret. “You’re so beautiful, absolutely stunning.”

Zayn kisses him again, harder this time, parting his lips and tugging him further on top of him. They kiss for ages and Zayn feels sober and drunk all at once, overwhelmed by Liam’s taste and scent and touch. Until…

“Fuck!” comes the muffled yell from the ensuite. “Oh, yeah, babe, yeah; lips made for sucking cock, fucking hell, oh my god, Harry, yeah, more, fuck, deeper, Jesus…”

Harry's moans are equally as clear, despite the fact that it sounds like he has a mouthful of dick, which makes both Zayn and Liam burst into loud, surprised laughter, Liam’s hands still gripping Zayn’s lapels and Zayn’s hands still cupping Liam’s cheeks.

“Well,” Zayn groans, shaking his head. “That’s, um, well it’s…”

Liam honest to god giggles, letting Zayn go and fishing around in his pocket for his phone. “Let me put some music on,” he suggests, scrolling through his songs with a look of severe concentration. After a second, the tinny speakers start playing a Paolo Nutini song softly and Liam beams, locking his phone and putting it on the bedside table.

“I love this song,” he says quietly. Zayn grins and tugs him back down, kissing him again fervently as he tugs the covers over their heads, as if that will drown out the sound of what he assumes is Louis’s hand smacking against the wall.

“This is wonderful,” he whispers into Liam’s mouth like a secret. Liam nods as he slides Zayn’s shirt from his shoulders.

“Really lush,” he says and then freezes. Zayn snorts.

“Lush?” he questions. “Is it lush, babe?”

“Oh, shut up,” Liam groans. “Can’t all be as eloquent as you, Mr. Malik.”

“You shut up,” Zayn says, pulling him down again so their mouths join again. It suddenly feels a lot more heated under the blankets than it did before, too much heat and fabric between them and not enough skin touching. Hands are everywhere and Zayn feels on fire, feels electric and desperate and alive all at once. He rubs his palm along Liam’s bare stomach and down towards the bulge in his jeans, which he wraps his hand around gently and squeezes.

Liam lets out a soft little gasp into his mouth and pulls back. Zayn can see how wide his pupils are blown even under the covers. He palms him more firmly and Liam thrusts into his grip a little, letting out an audible gulp. “Fuck,” he murmurs, his cock twitching in Zayn’s hold. “Fuck, Zayn, I’ll come and I… I want…”

“Top or bottom?” Zayn asks, surprised at how low his voice sounds already. “I don’t care, just, I want… I mean, if you do…”

Liam nods so fast that the covers fall off them. “Um, I, er… I’ll top, I guess. Is that alright?”

“More than,” Zayn says, nodding eagerly. “The, er, the condoms are on the side over there. There’s a packet of lube in the box.”

Liam nods, scrabbling off the bed and shoving his jeans down. His erection slaps against his belly with a meaty sound and Zayn’s eyes bulge because Liam is huge, so fucking thick and probably longer than Zayn’s ever taken. It sobers him up a bit, thinking about the stretch and burn that’s guaranteed to come but then Liam comes back to the bed and kisses him, long and slow, and it makes him feel drunk again. It’s overwhelming but he trusts him for reasons he doesn’t understand and he fucking wants, so with that in mind he pushes Liam away gently so he can remove his own jeans.

“Shit,” Liam almost whimpers as Zayn’s own cock springs free. “Fuck, I wanna…” He takes it in his hand without warning and pumps it a few times and Zayn moans loudly, falling against the pillow as Liam jerks him off, slow and torturous.

“I’ll come,” he pleads. “Stop, stop, just want you to fuck me.”

Liam bites his lip and it looks like it genuinely pains him to put Zayn’s cock down but he does, sliding his hands up the skin of Zayn’s soft thighs instead. “On your belly,” he says with another loud gulp. Zayn complies, settling himself comfortably and then he feels Liam’s strong hands on his arsecheeks, kneading the skin gently. “Fuck, Zayn, fuck, you’re just…”

“Liam,” Zayn chokes as two dry fingers press to his rim.

“So fucking beautiful,” Liam finishes, pressing a kiss just above his crack. “Honestly, every part of you is beautiful, I’m so lucky.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Zayn jokes feebly, but then Liam’s fingers are gone and he cranes his head awkwardly to see Liam fumbling with the little sachet of lube, tucking his fingers into it to coat them before climbing back over to Zayn.

“Fuck, Zayn,” Liam whispers again, carefully parting his cheeks with his dry hand and slowly rubbing a lube-covered finger over his hole, pressing the tip in ever so slightly. “Yeah, yeah, come on.”

Zayn gasps as he feels it press inside and he rocks back up onto his knees to take it deeper. It’s difficult to find a rhythm that works at first because they’re both drunk and Zayn is so tight and they’re both so attracted to each other they can barely stand to wait but eventually Liam adds a second and then a third, working him into a frenzy of arousal and impatience. “Liam,” he chokes again, “Liam, ‘m ready, please!”

Liam pulls his fingers out, gripping Zayn’s hips before he drops those too and mutters “shit, um, condom, condom,” and Zayn nearly wails with frustration, burying his face in his arms.

“Sorry,” Liam mumbles. He puts on the condom and slicks himself up with the remainder of the lube before pressing the head of his cock against Zayn’s hole and starts to sink inside.

Zayn does wail at that, scrabbling for purchase on the already untucked hotel sheets as Liam presses into him fully. He clenches around Liam’s length and Liam lets out a strangled gasp which is then followed up by a breathy chuckle.

“Bossy little bottom, aren’t you?” he splutters as Zayn does it again, managing a smirk despite the fact he’s finding it hard to focus on much more than the pleasure-pain coursing through him.  “Bloody tight too, fuck.”

“C’mon,” Zayn grits out, “c’mon Liam. You can complement my arse later.”

“Alright,” Liam titters, slamming his hips against Zayn’s arse so he yelps and loses his balance, falling flat onto his belly. Liam goes down with him but keeps fucking him, moving his whole body as he does so and he covers Zayn so much that he can’t do much more than lie there and take it, letting Liam pound away into him as he lies there and sinks his teeth into a pillow.

“Take it so well,” Liam says, pillaring his arms either side of Zayn’s shoulders for better leverage. “Look at you, born for this, born for my cock.”

As Liam’s cock nails his prostate on nearly every other upthrust, Zayn feels too dazed to do much more than whimper in agreement. Normally he finds this type of dirty talk cringey as fuck (and he almost feels like it should be cringey as fuck coming from Liam’s mouth) but it isn’t, inside makes him cry out louder and try to raise his hips a little more so he can take Liam deeper. He feels like he’s about to explode with pleasure, the combination of Liam’s cock dragging over his sweet spot and the way his own cock is rubbing against the coarse blankets beneath him when Liam’s suddenly pulling out, spinning Zayn over onto his back.

Zayn’s eyes go wide as Liam rips off the condom and he’s about to protest when Liam starts jerking himself, splattering Zayn’s thighs with milky cum. He groans and struggles to keep himself upright so Zayn grabs for his cock, ready to jerk himself off but Liam bats his hand away, pushing his legs further apart and pressing two fingers back inside him, crooking them again and again as he wraps his lips around Zayn’s hard length, sucking hard until Zayn’s coming down his throat with a shout.

Liam swallows what he can, but a little dribbles down his chin and as he leans up to kiss Zayn, Zayn licks the rest off his chin before plunging his tongue into Liam’s mouth, tasting himself of his tongue along with the faintest hints of spices from earlier. It’s intoxicating and Zayn doesn’t want to let Liam go, at least not until he absolutely has to.

“Wow,” Liam says, wiping his mouth and rolling off Zayn and onto his back. “Wow.”

“Wow indeed,” Zayn grins, rolling over onto his side so he can see his face. “Pretty sure sex with anyone isn’t meant to be that good the first time.”

“Next time, I want you to ride me,” Liam grins. “I bet you’ll look and feel fucking amazing.”

There’s a pause. “Next time?” Zayn asks shyly. “There’s gonna be a next time?”

Liam hesitates but nods. “I mean, I want there to be. Only if you want though, I mean, I guess you don’t owe me anything but…”

“Liam,” Zayn interrupts gently. “I would very much like there to be a next time, and a time after that and a time after that.”

The grin that spreads across Liam’s face is so wide that Zayn almost wants to ask him if it hurts. “Really?” he asks. “Really really?”

“Really really,” Zayn echoes. He slots his fingers through Liam’s and brings his hand to his mouth, kissing it gently. “I’m serious about this – about us – if you want to, you know, let it go somewhere.”

“Fuck,” Liam mutters disbelievingly. “Are you sure? Because it’s like… this feels too good to be true and it’s, like, I’ve been crushing on you for so long and now it’s happening and I’m, like, okay if it’s just sex, I promise…”

“Liam,” Zayn interrupts again. He tugs Liam to face him and cups his face gently, kissing him slowly, tenderly. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Liam whispers back, voice so soft that Zayn himself can barely hear it. His smile is so wide that his eyes crinkle and Zayn never wants to stop letting him smile that smile. “Lush.”

“Lush indeed,” Zayn giggles, squeezing his hand. It feels very lush, actually. Very, very lush indeed.

*

When Zayn wakes up the next morning, he reaches out for the body next to him, but instead his arms are met with cold sheets and a piece of paper instead.

Didn’t want to wake you, it reads, thanks for the best night ever liam xxxxxx

He blinks at it a few times, reading it over and over before he rolls over. Harry’s gone too, the room empty of everything except the clothes he wore yesterday and Louis asleep in the bed next to his, naked and with his back facing away from him.

“Louis,” he hisses, rolling out of bed naked without thinking about it and grabbing for his discarded clothes. “Lou!”

“What the fuck do you want?” Louis mumbles. He doesn’t turn around.

“Wake the fuck up, mate, I don’t have time for this,” he tells him, tossing one of the pillows from his bed over and smacking him with it. Louis rolls over and glares, rubbing at his eyes.

“Fuck,” he whines out, arching his back and clicking it into place. “I feel like I’ve run a fucking marathon.”

“Don’t care,” Zayn huffs, clumsy fingers struggling to button up his shirt. “Their coach leaves in half an hour, we need to go.”

Louis looks a little green. “No, wait, wait,” he says, reaching out for Zayn’s wrist. “I can’t… I just…”

“What?”

“I don’t know if I can see Harry again,” Louis mumbles.

“Why the fuck not?” Zayn asks, exasperated.

“We…” Louis blanches, “we… did… things…”

Zayn pauses from where he’s pulling on his shoes. “What kind of things?”

“Midlands things, maybe, I dunno, but it wasn’t normal,” Louis says. He stretches over to grab for his phone and then lets out a yelp. “Jesus, my poor arse…”

“Right, ground rule: I am absolutely not discussing any part of last night with you,” Zayn says, jumping back. Louis whines louder, burying his face into the pillow dramatically. “Louis! Get the fuck up!”

It takes far longer than it needs to to get Louis out of the hotel room, but after Zayn’s given him a cigarette and a tenner to go and buy breakfast he perks up significantly. They thunder down the Manchester streets, Zayn frantically googling the location of the coach station on his dying mobile until they skid to a halt a couple of streets away. Zayn picks up the pace again, ignoring Louis’s yells about him being inconsiderate to his sore arse, and jogs until he spies Liam smoking a fag against the coach, looking tired but ever as gorgeous. Harry’s stood a few feet away, talking to a guy who Zayn assumes is the coach driver, waving his hand around, clearly irritated as smoke hits his face from the guy’s own cigarette.

“Liam,” he calls loudly. “Liam!”

Liam looks around wildly and then spots him. Even from a distance, Zayn can tell that his face has broken out into the grin that’s already Zayn’s favourite and he keeps jogging until he’s close enough to fall into his arms, drawing their bodies together tightly and squeezing.

“I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye,” he mumbles into Liam’s shoulder. “Sorry if that’s too much.”

“Never too much,” Liam mumbles back. “Sorry I didn’t hang around this morning, I didn’t want to miss my coach.”

“S’fine,” Zayn says with a shake of his head. “Just wanna make sure you get off safe as well. And, you know, to kiss you now I don’t taste of pints and spunk.”

Liam giggles. “I loved that though. I loved last night.”

“I loved it too,” Zayn says honestly. He pulls back and cups his face, moulding their lips together once more. “Boyfriends, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Liam smiles back. “But, like, if it doesn’t work, you know, with the distance and such, even though I really want it to, if this is all it’s meant to be…” His smile softens and he kisses Zayn again a little harder. “Well, I’m still so glad I met you.”

“We’ll make it work,” Zayn promises, a tightness in his chest. “We will, we will, I know we will.”

“I think we will too,” Liam says. They kiss again and again, arms around each other tightly as they pour seven months of pent-up emotions into their goodbye. He barely hears Nick clearing his throat signalling their need to break apart, until he claps Liam on the shoulder and Liam jumps, breaking the kiss.

“We’ve gotta go, mate,” he says, and even he sounds so regretful that Zayn kind of wants to cry at the whole situation. Liam nods and then turns back to Zayn, pressing one last kiss onto his mouth.

“Hey,” he says, “I’ll talk to you on Monday, yeah?”

“Before,” Zayn croaks. “Text me, let me know you got home safe, yeah?”

“My protective boyfriend,” Liam pretends to coo but he looks about as miserable as Zayn feels. “Bye, Zayn.”

“Bye, Liam,” Zayn says, hating how bitter the words taste on his tongue. They walk hand in hand to the coach, ignoring the way Louis and Harry are now messily snogging up against the side of it and with one last squeeze of his hand, Liam climbs up with a fleeting wave.

Louis pushes Harry off him eventually and he too gets on, followed by Nick who starts snapping at Harry before the doors have even closed. Louis groans as the coach drives off, Zayn’s face not leaving Liam’s as he disappears from view. He wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his hoodie and then pulls the cigarette out of his pocket.

Everything is wrong, Zayn thinks. Everything is wrong because I didn’t tell him and I should have.

There’s silence as the bus disappears around the corner and then…

“So, KFC?”

“I’m in love with him,” Zayn blurts. Louis chokes on his inhale of smoke. “I love Liam, fuck. I love Liam and he’s just gone.”

There's a tense pause. “Christ,” Louis suddenly shouts, waving his cigarette about violently. “Well, you're an utter, utter bellend.” Zayn gulps. "You need to fucking tell him.”

“How?” Zayn asks incredulously. “How the fuck am I meant to do that? He’s just gone, Louis.”

“I’ll drive you,” Louis offers as drops the cigarette to the floor and toes it out. “How far can Wolverhampton be anyway?”

“We are in Manchester, Lou!” Zayn cries. “Are you saying we get the train home for you to then drive to Wolver-fucking-hampton?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Louis says. “Come on. Taxi!”

Louis’s dramatic display would probably have been more dramatic if the taxi driver hadn’t refused to let them in because the train station was so close that it would take them less time to walk. They dart through the station and onto the next train to Bradford (luckily it’s close enough for them to come regularly), all the while Louis trying to work out how to get to Wolverhampton from home.

“This isn’t going to work,” Zayn realises with a panicked jolt. “Wolverhampton’s a huge city, Lou. Where the fuck are we going to go to? I have no idea where he lives.”

Louis glares at him for a second, opening his mouth to shout before he clicks it closed, unlocking his phone and then winking at him as he scrolls through his phone book.

“Hello? Oliver?” he purrs into the receiver, his face in a cheeky grin. “S’Louis. Yes, hi, babe. Sorry to call you so early on a Sunday but I was wondering if I could call in that favour you owe me?” There’s a pause. “Of course, Oliver, of course, I wouldn’t do so if it wasn’t completely important to the survival of humanity, you know me, love.”

Zayn groans and hides his head in his hands, completely confused and filled with the second-hand embarrassment (that should feel almost like one of his default emotions by now, probably) at Louis flirting. Until…

“Well, the thing is, babe,” Louis hums happily, “I need your famous computer hacking skills.” Another pause and then, “oh, okay, if you don’t want to I’ll just phone Adam and…” Zayn hears Oliver make a shout and then Louis leans back against his chair, looking smug as hell. “Good, good. Well, you see, I need the address of someone at the Wolverhampton branch. Yeah, yeah. There’s a good lad.”

“What are you doing?” Zayn hisses. “I can’t just show up at his house!”

“You can,” Louis mouths with a glare. "And you fucking will." He clears his throat. "Yes, babe, still here. Oh, you are such a lamb. His name is Liam Payne. Works in their trading bit. Yeah, Liam, yeah, that's... Oh, excellent! Thank you, darling. Yep, see you Monday!" He hangs up and tosses his phone onto the table between them. "Piece of cake. He lives 72 Welshpool Road."

"What the fuck did you do to Oliver from IT to get him to do that?" Zayn asks incredulously.

"Him up against the photocopier one lunch break," Louis says gleefully, like he's thrilled Zayn asked. Zayn just groans. "I knew it would come in handy one day."

"How the fuck you still have a job is a mystery to me," Zayn says, tossing a balled up napkin at him. "You are a disgrace."

"Hey," Louis says indignantly. "Shut up or I won't give you his postcode."

Zayn scowls for the rest of the journey.

Once they pull up back to Bradford, there's a beaming Trisha waiting for them at the station. Zayn grins as she hurries forward to hug them both, pressing smacking kisses onto both their cheeks. "Well?" she shrills. "How was it?"

"Amazing," Zayn says. "Absolutely amazing. Listen, Mum..."

"Trisha, my darling, your young boy here is in love," Louis shouts, winding his arm around her shoulders as they walk towards the car. Trisha gasps, her eyes going wide and her hand going to her mouth. Louis just grins. "However! He only realised this after Liam had left so I'm driving us to Wolverhampton. Hope that's alright. Sorry if this gets in the way of your dinner plans."

"Louis!"

"You love him?" Trisha squeals. "My little boy all grown up! My god, Zayn, oh my god, I'm so... Oh I'm so proud!"

"Mum, don't cry," Zayn begs. "I'm emotional enough about this as it is. Can you just drop us at Louis's please?"

Trisha nods and wipes her face hurriedly before reaching for her car keys. The drive isn't long but Louis chats to Trisha the whole time, filling her in about the evening before and describing Liam as a hulking Adonis with heart eyes for Zayn like nobody he's ever seen, which is a description he can hardly protest against. His mum seems to approve anyway and if his two favourite people approve then, well, Zayn might just be a little more confident about it all.

They pull up to Louis's and Zayn goes to jump out but Trisha's hand winds around his wrist, halting him. He turns to her, eyes softening when he sees her eyes are still a little shiny with proud tears and he mumbles a gentle "oh, mum," which is meant to sound chastising but just sounds fond. "I'll fill you in when I get back, I will."

"I love you very much," Trisha says simply. "And I'm so glad you've found someone, darling. That means a lot to your old mum."

"You're hardly old," Zayn argues. Trisha shakes her head, leaving a sticky lipstick print on his hand before she shoos him out the car. Louis's leaning against his car, tapping his foot as if he's impatient. "What?"

"Are we going or not?" Louis says, raising his eyebrows. Zayn flips him off and slides into the passenger seat, fumbling with the sat nav as Louis tries to speed and light a fag at the same time.

"What do I do when we get there?" he whines suddenly, his own shaking hands reaching for his own crumpled pack of cigarettes. "What if he's not back? What if I look like a madman showing up at his door just a few fucking hours after I said bye? And fuck, Lou, we both have work tomorrow! And he might not say it back. He might not say it back, Louis. What if we drive all this way for me to freak him out and ruin this? What if...?"

"Jesus Christ, Zayn," Louis shouts, fist pounding on the horn. "I didn't sign up to drive you to a breakdown. You love him, he loves you, you'll be fine, alright?"

"Does he though?" Zayn says, taking a grateful puff of glorious smoke. "What if you're wrong?"

"Then fuck me, I just spent my weekend with the weirdest pair of pals," Louis says sardonically. "He'll think it's romantic, Zayn, trust me."

"Will he?" Zayn gulps. "He better. Is this too pushy? What if he thinks it's pushy and clingy?"

"I will literally push you out of the car and onto the M6," Louis snaps. "Now fix your fringe and shut the fuck up."

"What's wrong with my fringe?" Zayn says, eyes going even wider in horror. "Louis, seriously, what's wrong with my fringe? Louis? Louis?"

"It's just flat," Louis comments as if it isn't a big deal. "Just, like, quiff it back up."

"Well, do you have any product?" Zayn asks shrilly. "I can't go and meet Liam with shit hair."

"Use spit," Louis drawls, waving his hand. Zayn scowls and spends the next twenty minutes ignoring Louis and trying to make his hair presentable.

By some miracle (probably helped on by their sat nav warning them of some diversion that would affect traffic into Wolverhampton so they're able to turn around and get onto a different route), they pull up outside Liam's house just as the coach is unloading people at the top of the road. Zayn takes a deep breath, checks his hair one last time and then jumps out the car, shoving his shaky hands into his pockets.

And that's when he spots Liam.

Liam who is now wearing a big, oversized jumper that must be huge but it makes him look small and adorable. Liam, who he's known for seven months without seeing his face and now he's not sure he can go another seven seconds without looking at, let alone months again. Liam, who can't handle his spicy food and is afraid of heights and who still loves twister ice lollies even in his twenties and who makes Zayn feel so safe and protected even though he's the biggest softie he's ever known. Liam who thinks Harry is the strangest person he's ever known but who he'd take a bullet for in a second. Liam who offered to teach Zayn to swim on their third phone call, which was the start of this whole thing. Liam, who has just spotted him and is now dashing towards him, yelling his name too loud for this quiet little road. Liam who he loves. Liam who he's absolutely, completely, one hundred percent head over heels in love with.

"Zayn," he shouts, dropping his wheely suitcase onto Harry's foot and running down the hill and into his arms. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Had to see you," Zayn mumbles into his shoulder, clinging to his jumper. "Felt too weird to say goodbye, I want a bit more time."

Liam kisses him, drawing him in and squeezing him tight as Zayn's arms wind around his neck. They kiss for a long time and when they pull apart, Liam rests their foreheads together.

"Missed you," he mumbles. "I'm so glad you're here again."

"This isn't too much?" Zayn asks, hand coming to rest on Liam's cheek. "You can tell me to fuck off if this is too... too presumptuous or..."

"No," Liam all but shouts. "No, it's..." He looks nervous, almost scared all of a sudden and Zayn furrows his brows.

"Babe? What's wrong?"

"It's just," Liam murmurs, "I promised myself something." Zayn pulls back a little, eyes searching over his face. "That next time I saw you in person, I'd, um, I'd tell you something. Something... big. And, like, I know I mean it but I'm scared..."

"If you say it first I'll say it back," Zayn cuts in, heart beating hard in his chest.

Liam's eyes go wide before his face breaks out into a massive smile. "I love you."

"I love you too," Zayn says, his smile equally as blinding. Liam squeals and then they're kissing again, Liam's big hands warm and soft on his cheeks. Zayn smiles into it and eventually they pull apart because they're smiling too hard to do much more than bump mouths. Liam brushes his hair back and sighs.

"I really do love you," he says shyly. "I've never been in love before like this and I've only know you in the flesh, like, for a day. It's weird but it's, like, this is, like..."

"Babe," Zayn giggles, pecking his nose. "You're so cute. And I really do love you too."

Liam giggles, pulling back and sliding his hand into Zayn's. "This feels so surreal still. You're here, shit, don't you have work tomorrow?"

"Yeah, well," Zayn says, waving his hand. He's choosing not to think about that right now. "We can leave late, Louis won't mind."

Liam snorts, gesturing to where Harry and Louis have started snogging up against the car without a care in the world, Liam's suitcase perched next to them. Zayn giggles too, hiding his face in his hand.

"So, um, wanna come in?" Liam asks, nudging a stone with his foot nervously. "Meet my mum and dad and probably Niall too?"

"I would love that," Zayn says earnestly, squeezing his hand a little. "I really would."

"Mum'll love you," Liam says softly. "She'll wanna sit next to you at the table and feed you up and ask you your life story, sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Zayn laughs. "I wanna meet my boyfriend's mum and if that means her asking me the embarrassing questions then I'll answer. Promise."

"Okay," Liam says, voice happy but still laced with nerves. "Um, what do we do about these two?"

"Oi, dickheads," Zayn says loudly. "Oi!" Louis pulls back and glares, again not bothering to brush away the trail of spit linking their mouths. "Get a bloody room, will you? I'm going into Liam's house."

"Saucy," Louis says snappily, just as Harry says "my flat is only two streets from here."

Louis brightens up considerably. "Well, why didn't you say? Onwards, Harold!"

Zayn tuts and shakes his head, letting Liam tug him away towards his house, the wheels of his suitcase scraping loudly across the pavement. "Use protection!" he calls over his shoulder.

"Thanks, mum, I'll try not to get Hazza pregnant!" Louis screeches back. Zayn flips him off and clips up the stairs to Liam's little house, who fumbles for his keys and lets them in a quaint little hallway that smells like candles and cigarette smoke and bacon and eggs.

And meeting Karen, who bursts into tears and then offers him a cheese omelette is wonderful and being pulled into a bear hug by Niall, who introduces himself as Liam's adopted uncle is wonderful and spending the evening curled up with endless cups of tea on Liam's lumpy sofa is wonderful. Falling in love with Liam is wonderful.

"This is lush," he grins at Liam, pressing his lips onto his rough cheek. Liam blushes prettily but then turns to kiss him, tasting like milky, sugary tea. "So fucking lush, babe."

"I'm glad," Liam smiles at him. "I'm glad you think so, babe."

It might just be the start of something very lush indeed.

 


End file.
